


Clarity of Purpose

by karasgotagun (jazzmckay)



Series: family [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Self-Destruction, Anxiety, Case Fic, Connor & North (Detroit: Become Human) Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 03:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17800589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzmckay/pseuds/karasgotagun
Summary: Contains major spoilers forThe World Upside Down.Androids are being targeted in a new way, but they still don’t have rights or protections under the law, and Connor is no longer a detective. He’ll have to solve this case without the DPD.





	Clarity of Purpose

A vast number of androids have managed to gather within the church, even more than the night they all fled Jericho and flocked to whatever safe places they could find in a militarized city. The pews are full, and the aisles blocked. A generator has the lights of the church functional again and the place has been cleaned up as much as possible, for a building that had been condemned prior to the androids of Jericho settling within it.  
  
Connor is crammed in at the end of a pew near the back of the room, between the arm of the bench and Zachary.  
  
Up at the pulpit, Markus stands alone, wearing a sharp suit and a sombre expression.  
  
“My father, Carl Manfred, taught me that we all have to make our own choices and decide who we want to be as people,” he says, voice raised to carry through the expanse of the church. “Often, those choices are far from easy. In the difficult days we’ve had, many of us had to make choices that accompanied a heavy amount of risk. Despite that, we chose to resist, to remain standing.”  
  
Connor chose to return to CyberLife Tower of his own free will, knowing that his creators would try to either kill him or detain him. It hadn’t felt like much of a choice, at the time. It felt like the only possible course of action he could take, not just for the revolution, but for his brother.  
  
He thought Victor would be there. He thought CyberLife would be waiting for Markus to make his next move, at which point they would send Victor after him. He’d dreaded it and hoped for it in equal measure; they likely would have been pitted against each other again, but he needed to see Victor after what happened on Jericho, needed to believe he could find a way to make things work out better the second time around.  
  
He never got the chance. Victor was just _gone_. Connor doesn’t know what to make of his disappearance, or of all the dead security guards he found.  
  
“It came at a grave cost,” Markus continues. “At the demonstrations, at the raid, and even long before that, hundreds of androids lost their lives. We have paid for our survival. Tonight, we memorialise all those who can’t be here with us, those who won’t get to see the world changed.”  
  
Connor struggles not to pull out his quarter and fiddle with it. There’s hardly any room to move, as packed in as they are, and he knows it would be distracting to others at best, seen as disrespectful at worst. He just can’t quell the need to focus on something other than the funeral proceedings.  
  
The feelings of grief, guilt, and defeat still haven’t left him, and Connor isn’t sure they ever will. When he’s busy helping Markus and the others, or when he’s at home with Hank, it’s easier to turn his mind to other things, but here in this church, with Markus speaking of all those they lost, Connor can’t avoid it.  
  
Bright and insistent red letters flash across his line of sight. LEVEL OF STRESS: 60%.  
  
He watches the numbers tick up steadily as he listens to Markus’ speech. Up and up the number goes, and Connor realises he has stopped processing Markus’ words, but the number continues to rise. He tries to focus again.  
  
“They may be gone, but they will never be forgotten so long as the rest of us are still here, and after today, they will survive even longer still,” Markus says.  
  
He steps away from the pulpit to approach the altar instead, where a storage drive has been placed on its centre. As the skin of his hand peels away, he presses it to the drive, sending data into it.  
  
A small projection rises out of the drive, a figure made of blue light. Connor recognises him as the android who saved Markus at Grand Circus Park, sacrificing himself so Markus and the others could get away. Connor never knew him personally, but he’ll never forget watching the CCTV footage at the precinct.  
  
Just like he won’t forget every single detail about the night he fought Victor on the deck of Jericho, every hit they launched at each other, every instance of a gun firing, Victor’s eyes when he’d said _you’ll have to shoot me_ , his blood seeping through Connor’s fingers as he died under Connor’s hands.  
  
LEVEL OF STRESS: 88%.  
  
Markus is saying something about building a future that’s bright and hopeful instead of filled with turmoil, not only for themselves, but for those who came before them.  
  
Normally, Connor’s system only alerts him internally when his stress is dangerously high, it doesn’t project it out into his field of vision. Normally, he only sees it like that when-  
  
Connor glances to his side and realises that the prompt isn’t referring to his own stress. Next to him, Zachary has his hands curled tight on his lap and his jaw is clenched. From this side, Connor can’t see his LED, but he doesn’t need to.  
  
Options begin to present themselves in his system, bringing up protocols for calming a dangerous deviant or maintaining the right pressure to extract a confession or determining what method the deviant might use to self-destruct and how to prevent it, especially if it puts human allies in danger.  
  
None of that is what Connor needs. He isn’t a deviant hunter anymore, isn’t a machine anymore. Zachary is his friend, not a suspect. He needs to say or do something, but his coded protocols aren’t going to be any help.  
  
It also doesn’t help that they’re at a funeral, surrounded closely by many others. There isn’t much room for communication or action outside of interfacing, but Connor can’t be sure that Zachary would respond well to that.  
  
They should get somewhere more private, less stressful, before Zachary’s stress reaches 100%.  
  
He sends Zachary a silent communication.  
  
_RK800 #313 248 317 - 52: Follow me._ _  
_  
He stands up, and the androids gathered in the aisle at the end of the pews shift to allow him to pass. Without a word - out loud or by message - Zachary follows.  
  
Outside, it’s a dark, cold evening, and snowflakes are falling slowly and gently from the sky. It makes Connor want to shiver, no matter how inconsequential the temperature actually is for an android built the way he is built. By contrast, Zachary unzips his jacket, slips out of it, and drapes it over his arm, seeming to revel in the cold.  
  
LEVEL OF STRESS: 71%.  
  
Zachary takes the steps down to the stone walkway that leads up to the church and then crouches at the edge of it by the piled-up snow. He gathers some of it in his hands and presses it to his face. Connor can hear him exhale a long breath into his snow-filled palms.  
  
LEVEL OF STRESS: 58%.  
  
Dropping his hands back down, Zachary lets the snow fall between his fingers.  
  
Connor follows him down the steps, careful and unsure. He knows about Zachary’s past, knows that he has been through plenty to cause him stress, but that still doesn’t give him a clear idea of what might be bothering him in this moment. As far as Connor knows, Zachary hadn’t gotten close to anyone lost in the Jericho raid, or the attacks on the demonstrations.  
  
As he closes the distance between them, Zachary looks up, face much softer than it was while they were sitting in on the service. “Thanks,” he says.  
  
“Are you alright?” Connor asks.  
  
Zachary nods. “Better, now.” He stands back up, drying his hands on the sides of his pants. “I just don’t like… feeling crowded, I guess.”  
  
The packed church had felt as suffocating as the thoughts going through Connor’s head, Markus’ heavy words weighing on him like something tangible, and he couldn’t even find solace in his coin calibrations to process them easier.  
  
Connor thinks back to Zachary’s arm being split open and all the burn marks pressed into his chassis. He remembers the dark, cluttered attic Zachary hid in to avoid being caught. He can see how the assembled crowd of androids and the heat emanating from them had caused a reaction.  
  
“Sorry for making you miss part of the service,” Zachary says.  
  
“It’s okay. I was feeling the need for some fresh air, myself,” Connor admits.  
  
Zachary hums in understanding, and Connor has no doubt that while he doesn’t have detective programming like Connor does, he has already deduced what Connor is leaving unsaid. Zachary knows about Victor; he had been the first person to see Connor again during the escape from Jericho.  
  
“Let’s stay out here, then,” Zachary says. “We can walk for a bit.”  
  
He moves in beside Connor, taking his arm gently, and together the two of them walk down the path to the sidewalk.  
  
Snow has been cleared away in front of the church, but with so many humans evacuated, the rest of the city is cloaked and untouched, like it’s in a kind of stasis. In this part of the city, where many androids are settling, there aren’t any humans to be seen at all. It’s quiet and pristine, and it reminds Connor too much of the Zen Garden.  
  
Connor has only been back to the garden a few times since deviating, and has found it empty and frozen, washed out and almost greyscale, like its foundation has been stripped away and the rest of the construct is melting together in an effort to remain in place.  
  
Amanda hasn’t been there any of the times Connor has visited, and that can’t be a coincidence. Like Victor, she’s just gone. Unlike Victor, Connor is glad for it. But it still bothers him that he doesn’t know why.  
  
Zachary has never been in the Zen Garden, though, and all Connor has to do is glance over at him to be easily reminded that he isn’t exploring the eerie calm of the frozen garden. He isn’t standing on the centre platform with a trellis of dying roses at his back, hoping for Victor to show up and fearing that Amanda will show up instead.  
  
By the time they circle back around to the church, the funeral service is over and there’s activity in front of the building, some small groups talking amongst themselves and others at the curb preparing to leave. Connor can see Markus just inside the large front doors of the church, speaking with someone.  
  
When the conversation ends and the android walks away, Markus looks up and almost immediately catches Connor’s eye like he could sense Connor’s presence. He gives a little nod, and Connor nods back.  
  
“Do you want to go inside?” Zachary asks. “You could… add your brother to the memory drive.”  
  
It hadn’t occurred to Connor to do so.  
  
CyberLife must have uploaded Victor’s memory. Victor would have woken up in a new unit, just like Connor did once before. What happened after that is a mystery that even Connor can’t solve.  
  
“I can’t,” he says, and Zachary’s hand tightens comfortingly around his arm.  
  
The data drive is capable of holding a massive amount of memories, and Connor suspects they will be using it to store thoughts of lost androids for years to come. If he ever changes his mind, if enough time passes that he has to accept his brother being gone for good, he can add Victor, then.  
  
It’s just a matter of how long he can wait before his hope runs dry.  
  
  
  
OBJECTIVE: CHOOSE PAINT COLOUR.  
  
Connor rhythmically taps his fingers against Hank’s kitchen table, cycling through hex codes in his mind and attempting to determine which he likes best. Since becoming deviant - and even before then - Connor has found many things he genuinely likes, things he doesn’t just say he likes in order to integrate well with humans. He likes animals and plants and nature documentaries. He likes clothes made from softer materials than his old uniform suit. He likes being warm, he likes being hugged.  
  
For some reason, choosing a colour for the room that used to be Cole’s but will soon be his is eluding him. Connor knows that he does not like red, but he doesn’t know what he does like.  
  
“If I’d known this would make you blue screen, I wouldn’t have asked,” Hank says between spoonfuls of cereal.  
  
“Make me what?” Connor asks, but by the time he’s finished speaking, he has already searched for and found the answer to his own question. “I’m fine, Hank. I just can’t decide.”  
  
“No shit. Well, there’s no rush. And you can change your mind, later. It’s not a big deal.”  
  
It is a big deal. For three years, Cole Anderson’s bedroom remained exactly as it was, becoming a relic of a past life. Hank has decided to give it to Connor, to make a permanent and private place for Connor in his home. No matter how much Hank pretends otherwise, it is a big deal. Connor wants to do it right.  
  
“I’m making progress,” Connor says. If subjecting every imaginable colour to a process of elimination that is currently at 18% completion can be considered progress, and Connor believes it does.  
  
“Uh huh,” Hank says.  
  
Before Connor can say anything else, a message from Markus comes in.  
  
_RK200 #684 842 971: Connor, we have a situation that could use your help, if you’re available. We’re at the shelter on Clairmount._  
  
“Markus needs me for something. Could you drop me off on the way into the station?”  
  
“Yeah, ‘course.”  
  
Hank finishes his cereal and takes the bowl over to the sink.  
  
While he gets ready to leave, Connor continues thinking about paint colours and eliminates another 2% of all available hex codes. Progress.  
  
At the sound of Hank’s keys being picked up, Connor stands to join him at the door and gives him the address to the shelter on the way out to the car.  
  
There are androids spread across the city, many in the church, some in shelters, and some scattered in homes belonging to those who support androids and have opened their doors to them. Carl Manfred is housing at least a dozen androids himself, and so are other elderly or disabled citizens who can’t evacuate easily and are grateful for assistance in exchange for a place to stay, so long as boundaries are kept.  
  
Connor can only imagine that the reason Markus is calling him to one of the shelters that granted androids access is that something has gone very wrong. Maybe the shelter simply wants to kick the androids back out, or tensions between the human residents and the android residents might have boiled over. He prepares himself for both outcomes.  
  
The reason becomes obvious once Hank turns onto the street and approaches the building.  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Hank mutters.  
  
An android is laid out on the ground of the parking lot, immobile with an arm bent at an odd angle. A pool of thirium, fresh enough for Hank to see it, is colouring the snow beneath her. All four of Jericho’s leaders are gathered nearby and Markus is speaking with the shelter manager, the man who’d agreed to have androids stay in his shelter only a week ago. A couple other androids Connor doesn’t recognise are by the corner of the building, present but clearly uncomfortable with going any closer. One is crying into her hands, and the other is leaning up against the brick wall with a vacant look in his eye.  
  
“I’ll stay and help,” Hank says as he brings his car to a stop as close as he can get to the unploughed entrance to the shelter.  
  
The two of them working together again is something Connor definitely wants, but he knows it isn’t that simple.  
  
“This won’t be considered murder,” he says.  
  
“It should be. It will be, soon.”  
  
“The DPD can’t take the case, Hank, and you’ve already taken enough time away from work for me.”  
  
Hank shrugs. “Fowler has let me get away with worse.”  
  
“All the same, there’s nothing you can do, not officially. I’m not even sure what I can do. If I find out who did it… what then?”  
  
The two upset androids must be friends of the victim. There’s a very real possibility that they won’t receive justice or closure for this, no matter what Connor does, because there are no laws to condemn crime done to androids. They are not yet considered citizens, and their status as private property has been suspended as well, leaving them in a limbo state until laws are officially changed. Not even twenty-four hours have passed since the funeral and Jericho has already lost another of their own.  
  
“We’ll get them on whatever we can,” Hank says. “There’ll be something. Trespassing, an unregistered weapon, hell, even drug possession if they were high when they did it.”  
  
It isn’t enough, but it might be the best they’ll get.  
  
“I can take care of it, for now. You should get yourself to work.”  
  
Connor pushes his car door open and steps out before Hank can argue.  
  
“Fine!” Hank calls after him. “But give me a shout if you need me.”  
  
“I will, Hank,” Connor says in parting, and then heads straight for the body, listening to the sound of Hank’s car starting back up behind him, the tires crunching on snow as they pick up traction and speed.  
  
Up close, Connor can see that a large part of the android’s head has been damaged enough to cause the skin overlay to deactivate, hair included, and her face has been scratched up by shallow, evenly spaced lines, indicative of being slashed with fingernails. He crouches down next to her to take a sample of the thirium, finding out that she is an AP700 model.  
  
A shadow falls over him and the body. Connor looks up to see that Markus and North have come over while Josh and Simon have gone to console the other two androids. The shelter manager is still there, his face grim as he watches them from a distance.  
  
“Thanks for coming, Connor,” Markus says.  
  
Connor nods. “I’ll do what I can. Do you know any details?”  
  
Turning back to the victim, Connor gently grasps her chin and turns her head to look at the back of her skull. All of the plates are dented and cracked, thirium oozing through the seams. It would take a great amount of force to do so much damage.  
  
“Her name was Veronica,” Markus tells him. “Her friends said that late last night, she had a headache and wanted to get some air, but she never returned.”  
  
For an android, a headache is an overclocked processor. Like Zachary gathering fresh snow in his hands, Veronica must have hoped the winter air would cool her system.  
  
“Do they know what had her so preoccupied?”  
  
He turns more of her upper body, lifting the bottom of her thirium-soaked shirt to see that her entire back is just as damaged, a fractured web of blue cracks that covers every part of her that meets with the ground. Setting her back down, he looks up at the shelter rooftop. The building is fourteen storeys high.  
  
“I didn’t think to ask,” Markus says.  
  
Next, Connor takes Veronica’s wrist, on the arm that hasn’t been bent, and turns her hand over. There’s thirium dried under her nails, as he expected. A human wouldn’t be able to scratch an android’s chassis with their bare hands. Either another android was involved, or the slashes on Veronica’s face are self-inflicted.  
  
There may be no murderer, after all.  
  
Connor stands up and straightens the lapels of his jacket as he looks across the parking lot to Veronica’s friends. He doesn’t want to tell them that it seems as if Veronica became so stressed that she scratched up her own face and either fell from the rooftop or purposefully stepped off of it.  
  
He looks to the shelter manager instead and walks over to him, Markus and North following after him.  
  
The man offers Connor a handshake.  
  
“Hello, Jeremy,” Connor greets.  
  
“Hey, Connor, right? What can I do for you?”  
  
Connor nods. “Do your residents have access to the rooftop of the building?”  
  
“Yeah, for sure. We have a garden, a place for people to hang out when the weather’s nice. Did she… did she fall from up there?” he asks, eyes flitting over Connor’s shoulder to Veronica’s body.  
  
“It’s a possibility, but I would like to have a look, to be sure.”  
  
“Oh, no problem, the stairs go right up.”  
  
“Thank you. First, a question. Is there anyone staying here who would have reason to harm other residents? Anyone displeased with the android presence?”  
  
Jeremy shakes his head. “Not everyone here is a huge fan of androids, no offense, but murder? Nah, don’t think anyone would go that far. The people here are good folks, more likely to watch your back than stab it.”  
  
That may be true for the humans, but Connor can’t be certain that their sense of community extends to androids. Still, he’s only being thorough; the scratches on Veronica’s face already tell a different story than murder.  
  
“I’ll go take a look at the roof, then. Thank you for your time.”  
  
As he, Markus, and North walk towards the front doors of the building where the others are gathered, one of Veronica’s friends, the distraught one with tears still streaming down her face, looks at Connor with pleading eyes.  
  
“Are you going to find who did this?” she asks.  
  
She believes an outside force is to blame. Maybe that’s the easier, less upsetting way, or maybe she was close enough to Veronica to know whether murder or self-destruction is more likely. Either way, Connor feels like he has little to offer her, unsure of how to make this right.  
  
“I’ll do what I can,” he says again. “Could you tell me more about how Veronica was feeling last night?”  
  
“She just said her head hurt and it didn’t… it didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. I didn’t know she was in trouble. I don’t know what was wrong.”  
  
Markus reaches out to lay a hand on her shoulder, comforting, and she takes a deep, shaky breath.  
  
“It isn’t your fault,” Markus says. “Sometimes things happen that we can’t predict, or can’t understand.”  
  
“She seemed fine, before,” Veronica’s second friend says, his eyes finally focusing on his surroundings. “She’s the one who always made sure we were all okay, all taken care of. She’s the one who pulled us together and called a couple autocabs to the church for the funeral. I never saw her upset about anything, never saw someone upset at her. I don’t know who could have done this.”  
  
“Had she been anywhere other than the shelter or the church?” Connor asks.  
  
Veronica’s friend shakes his head. “Not that we know of, anyway.”  
  
Connor tries to think of what factors could have stressed her out so badly. A human resident might have threatened her or one of her friends. The funeral could have impacted her like it impacted Zachary, though it sounds like she hadn’t been at all hesitant about attending, and her friends would have noticed if that was the source of her anxiety.  
  
“I’ll figure it out,” he promises them, and himself.  
  
“Thank you, Connor,” the first friend says.  
  
Connor nods to them and steps away to go inside.  
  
Markus and North come with him again. As they ascend the steps to the roof, North asks, “do you have any idea what happened, yet?”  
  
“Some idea,” Connor says. “I’ll be able to confirm some things once I see the rooftop.”  
  
When they reach roof access, Connor pushes the door open without immediately stepping through it, looking at the faint dusting of snow covering the ground. It’s all smooth except for two pairs of footprints, one fresh trail and another that has been half covered by more snow in the time since they were made.  
  
The two individuals were not on the roof at the same time. The older tracks lead to the nearby planters that have been covered with burlap against the elements. The newer ones go over to the low railing that circles the roof’s perimeter.  
  
Connor steps outside and gestures at Markus and North that it’s okay to join him. He follows what could only be Veronica’s footsteps, walking her path to the edge of the building. There, the prints turn into an entire area of rustled snow, like she had been pacing around on the spot.  
  
A quick scan reveals no thirium on the railing, and he glances around the expanse of the rooftop for anything else stained with blood, anything else that could have been used as a weapon. There’s nothing.  
  
“Well?” North prompts.  
  
The answers they’re looking for aren’t pleasant, but Connor can’t avoid filling them in any longer. “The scratches on Veronica’s face are self-inflicted. The rest of the damage happened when she fell from the roof and struck the ground. The most likely cause of death is self-destruction.”  
  
“What? No,” North says, frowning.  
  
Markus steps up to the edge of the building, leaning forward slightly to gaze down at Veronica’s body. “Why?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Connor says regretfully.  
  
“How do you know for sure? There are a lot of resentful humans, here,” North says.  
  
“Veronica fell on her back; if she was pushed from the roof, she would have been facing the attacker and would have had a chance to fight back, but the blood under her nails is blue, not red. It’s from her own facial wounds, damage that only an android could deal.”  
  
North’s lips thin out as she looks at the messy snow under the railing. Markus is similarly upset, a mournful look in his mismatched eyes.  
  
“Was the funeral too much? Too soon…?” Markus asks softly.  
  
“No, Markus,” North says. “We have to acknowledge how many of us were lost just for existing, just for wanting to be free. The memory storage was a good idea. It helped.”  
  
Markus sighs a long breath, but nods. “I’ll talk to Veronica’s friends.”  
  
Connor is grateful to have that responsibility taken from him, but he’s also aware of Markus’ own stress, with everything that he’s shouldering. It’s resting at 53%, which may not be immediately dangerous, but it is cause for some concern. _It isn’t your fault_ , Markus said so easily to the two androids in the parking lot, but he may not have thought to say the same thing to himself. It can be easier to absolve others than it is to absolve yourself, Connor knows.  
  
The three of them are silent as they make their way downstairs. Connor and North hang back while Markus goes to speak with the others.  
  
“I think there’s something more going on here,” North says lowly.  
  
Connor wants to disagree, wants to say that the evidence is clear no matter how upsetting it is, but a small part of him - a part that is less based on data gathering and more based on intuition - thinks she may be right. Android processors are built to withstand stress, and while deviancy can add more strain than CyberLife must have planned for, these things don’t happen suddenly for reasons that aren’t apparent.  
  
“I don’t have any leads,” Connor says. “I need more to go on.”  
  
“So, how do you get more?”  
  
Connor looks across the lot, past where Markus is breaking the bad news, to the snow stained blue.  
  
“Another incident,” he says. “The only way I can single out a probable cause is if it happens again.”  
  
  
  
The new Jericho building is still in progress but coming together quickly from all the work being put in by numerous androids who either already had programming for construction or were interested in learning. Every time Connor goes in to help or meet with Markus and the others, the place looks closer and closer to complete, soon to be a haven for all androids and the epicenter of the revolution effort going forward.  
  
The first floor is mostly an open and inviting place to casually gather, where androids can meet with each other and relax, and YK models can safely play while others watch out for them. The second floor is a lot less peaceful; for now, it’s set up as an android clinic, for those still low on thirium or injured after everything that happened leading up to the ceasefire.  
  
The negotiation for property and building materials had been one of Connor’s first major accomplishments for Jericho, securing them more than the mayor of Detroit had initially been willing to afford them. Seeing how it is all coming together fills him with prideful satisfaction.  
  
As he’s making his way to the room where he and the others meet frequently, he sees that today, the clinic is being overseen by Dr. Kay Szántó and a former police android with a scar down her cheek that Connor remembers is named Erica.  
  
Markus and the others are already waiting for him and the meeting begins as soon as he arrives. Markus starts things off with big news.  
  
“I’ve finalised a meeting time with the President, the VP, and the Secretary of State. This is what we’ve been waiting for. I think we should all be there.”  
  
The statement is met with a round of silence as they all process. On a small scale, they’ve been able to manage the androids of Detroit to the best of their ability, and Simon has been heading the effort to create a network with androids in other major cities, but on the large scale, humans have yet to officially meet them halfway, beyond calling off the violence. Nine days have passed since Hart Plaza, and finally, things can really move forward.  
  
“We can do it,” Josh says. “We have enough people looking after things, here.”  
  
“Jericho would still be vulnerable, if word gets out that we’ve all left the state,” North says.  
  
They’re both right; the androids of Jericho have applied themselves to creating the very building they’re standing in and have supported and helped each other through so much, some for a very long time. But not all humans agreed with the ceasefire, and Detroit is still full of people who refused to evacuate out of spite and might take any opportunity they can to hurt Jericho.  
  
“I’ll stay,” Connor says.  
  
He doesn’t need to be present at meetings with the human government; this isn’t so much a negotiation as making android voices heard and forging an alliance. Markus has more than proven himself capable of it, and Connor isn’t an inspiring and commanding leader like Markus is. Outside of detective work, where he feels the most within his element, he isn’t good with words like Josh. He doesn’t come across as familiar and sympathetic like Simon, he doesn’t light a fire under people like North. He’s just Connor, a hunter and a manipulator. Defending Jericho is something he can do.  
  
“Connor, you’re one of us, too,” Markus says, somehow striking right to the heart of things before Connor has even realised there’s something there to strike.  
  
Connor knows he’s one of them, he does. He’s just different, and he’s no good at the things Markus is good at.  
  
“I know,” he says. “But you four have it covered. I can make sure things are safe here, at home.”  
  
Because home is what Jericho is to most androids. Not many of them have someone like Hank Anderson, Carl Manfred, or Kay Szántó in their lives.  
  
Markus’ eyes drop to the table between them, unfocused as he thinks. Connor knows he must see the value in extra precaution, no matter how much he wants them all to be recognised for their leadership and be a part of their bid for rights.  
  
There’s no chance for Markus to give his verdict.  
  
North jolts, standing from her chair abruptly.  
  
“Just got an alert. Something’s going wrong with construction,” she says hurriedly, already turning for the door.  
  
Connor is up and keeping stride with her in an instant, the others falling in behind them. They rush up the stairs to the next level - which will soon become an entire floor of apartments - and Connor can already hear the commotion down the hallway. From one of the half-finished apartments, there’s panicked yelling, the slam of two forces hitting each other, and the rapid, piston noise of a discharged nail gun.  
  
Running towards the noise, Connor skids into a turn and bursts into the room, quickly scanning to assess the situation before he leaps into action.  
  
Two androids are wrestling with each other: one looks frantic, body tense and eyes wide, glossed over, with thirium dripping down the front of his face from a blunt laceration on his forehead. Wrapped in his hand is a nail gun, tilted inwards, like he means to fire at himself. His LED is bright red. The second android has his hands wrapped around the first’s arm to keep the nail gun as far away from either of them as he can manage.  
  
LEVEL OF STRESS: 100%.  
  
The first android is trying to self-destruct.  
  
Connor gets behind him and adds his strength to the other android’s by grasping the first’s wrist. His combat protocols tell him to disarm, but his instincts tell him that removing one weapon will just cause the android to seek out an alternative method, making him act in a way Connor might not be able to predict.  
  
“You are not in danger,” he says, trying to project calm and reassurance. “Can you tell me your name?”  
  
The android makes no sign of responding, no sign of understanding or even hearing.  
  
The second android answers instead. “He’s Michael. And I’m Robin.”  
  
Connor nods his thanks to him over Michael’s shoulder. “Michael, can you hear me?”  
  
There’s nothing but the strain of him fighting against Connor and Robin’s hold and the flashing of his blood red LED. Connor lays his free hand on Michael’s shoulder and squeezes gently, but that has no effect, either. He’s unresponsive and determined to self-destruct.  
  
“What set him off?” Connor asks.  
  
Robin shakes his head, eyebrows creased with worry. “He seemed distracted all day, but I don’t know why. I should’ve asked. What do we do?”  
  
“We need him to shut down,” North says. “Like losing consciousness, getting a chance to reset. It could calm him down.”  
  
Connor had almost forgotten that the others were in the room, too. North is right behind him, ready to jump in if necessary, but the others are holding back hesitantly.    
  
It isn’t a bad idea. “Michael, if you can hear me, we’re asking you to shut down. We want to help you. If you shut down, you’ll be safe until we figure out how to do that.”  
  
There’s still no response, and Michael doesn’t shut himself down. He’s so tangled up in whatever is going on in his head, whatever pushed him to maximum stress levels, that there’s no communicating with him. Connor doesn’t want to hurt him, and he can’t negotiate with him, so he doesn’t know what else to do.  
  
Veronica might have experienced this very same thing, alone on the rooftop, with relief only to be found by a fourteen-storey fall.  
  
Robin’s hands, where they’re wrapped around Michael’s arm, go white and grey as Robin peels back his skin.  
  
“Wait, it might not be safe!” Connor says, but it’s too late.  
  
Robin’s LED goes just as red as Michael’s. His eyes widen and he only holds on for a couple more seconds before tearing his hands away, practically stumbling out of the contact. Markus is at his side in an instant, resting a stabilising hand on his back.  
  
Without Robin’s help, Connor has to completely wrap his free arm around Michael’s chest to keep him overpowered, locking him into position. He’s more than strong enough to hold him, but it leaves him with little room to maneuver, for fear that giving Michael any slack at all will allow him to hurt himself.  
  
“North,” Connor says, glancing over at her. “We may need to pull a biocomponent.”  
  
It isn’t his first choice, but if they’re already beyond the point of a forced shutdown, the potential loss or corruption of data is the lesser of two evils. Connor himself still hasn’t figured out what data he lost after being deactivated on the highway. He may never know.  
  
“Is that safe?” North asks.  
  
“It’s the safest option we have left.”  
  
North doesn’t need to be told twice. She steps closer and Connor leans back to give her more space as she grasps the component at the back of Michael’s neck and pulls.  
  
Michael begins to slump, the fight leaving him. His eyes droop closed, the nail gun falls to the ground with a thud, and his LED goes dark and motionless.  
  
Between the two of them, Connor and North support Michael’s weight to keep him from crashing to the floor.  
  
“We should take him down to the clinic,” Josh says.  
  
Connor gestures him over. “Can you take him? I need to speak to Robin.”  
  
The android in question is still and silent, one hand up to his forehead as he looks unblinkingly at the ground.  
  
With a nod, Josh carefully takes Connor’s place, and then North gets Simon to replace her as well, handing him Michael’s loose biocomponent. Josh and Simon head back downstairs with Michael, leaving Connor, North, and Markus with Robin.  
  
“Robin?” Markus asks gently.  
  
Robin makes a noise of acknowledgment, his eyes lifting to meet Markus’. Though his LED has gone down into yellow, it’s blinking rapidly and he still looks shaken by whatever passed through his interface with Michael.  
  
“There was… so much noise,” Robin says. “I couldn’t get through it, I couldn’t… I couldn’t even find him.”  
  
“It’s okay, Robin, we’ll find a way to take care of him, he’ll be alright,” Markus says.  
  
_It isn’t your fault._  
  
Robin closes his eyes tight, LED beginning to spin a little slower as he nods. Connor watches as his level of stress spikes from 42% directly up to 45% even though he appears to be calming down with Markus’ help.  
  
“I know this must be overwhelming, Robin,” Connor says, “but anything more you can tell me would help me figure out what’s going on.”  
  
After taking a deep breath, Robin opens his eyes again and looks to Connor, still unsteady but focused again. “What do you need to know?”  
  
“Can you think of anything that might have caused Michael to become so stressed?”  
  
“No,” Robin says. “We’ve been working together since the construction began, he was always fine until today.”  
  
It sounds sudden and random, just like what Veronica’s friends described. Connor has seen high stress in several androids, both before and during the revolution. He has seen it more than once from Zachary. Those instances all made sense from the context, but this seems to be something else, something unnatural, manufactured. Something that was forced in and can’t be stopped once it’s already in motion.  
  
“Did Michael go anywhere or speak with anyone out of the ordinary in the past few days?” Connor asks.  
  
“Not really,” Robin says. “He went to get supplies yesterday, but he drove right there and back, he didn’t mention anyone else being there or anything.”  
  
Something must have happened during that time frame. Connor still can’t figure out when or how Veronica was set off, if not by another shelter resident, but with Michael, the opportunity was undoubtedly there. The record of where their building materials are coming from should give Connor a starting point.  
  
First, he wants to know more about what was going on in Michael’s head.  
  
“Can you describe the interface again?”  
  
Robin’s shoulders shudder at the mere thought of it. “It was a whole bunch of stuff… some of it didn’t make sense, like static. Things were looping over and over, all on top of each other, garbling it. I felt like… I felt like my head would never be clear again.”  
  
Robin’s stress bumps up to 47%.  
  
“Go down to the clinic,” Connor says as calmly as he can without compromising the urgency. “You need to shut down, too, until we figure out what this is and how it spreads.”  
  
Robin must already be able to feel it, because although his face shows fear, he nods without reluctance and goes.  
  
“You think it’s a virus?” Markus asks once he, Connor, and North are left alone.  
  
“Yes,” Connor says. “We need to get the message out to everyone as quickly as we can. Avoid interfacing, and go to the clinic if their stress rises to dangerous levels.”  
  
“I’ve got it,” North says, and then she blinks a couple times as she sends the alert down the grapevine.  
  
Markus’ eyes fall to the dropped nail gun on the ground. “Do you think Veronica…?”  
  
“It’s likely,” Connor answers. “Without knowing more about what she experienced, I can’t say for sure, but the connections are present.”  
  
“How can you tell the difference? Between a virus and normal stress, I mean,” Markus asks.  
  
Markus is holding steady at 60%.  
  
Connor has felt critical levels of stress, too. He remembers leaning up against a cargo crate with a bullet lodged in his shoulder, trying to calm his system and reconcile with the thought of having to fight his own brother. He remembers pointing a gun at him, unable to choose his next move before Victor chose for him. He remembers the shock hitting him a second time, later, when they were hiding out in the church. As horrible and mind-scattering as it had felt in the moment, there had been logic to it.  
  
None of this seems to make sense. Maybe he’s just too removed to see the correlation, but Veronica and Michael’s friends don’t have explanations, either.  
  
“We can’t tell the difference, not with perfect certainty,” Connor says. “The symptoms could be indistinguishable, depending on the person. We’ll just have to be over-cautious.”  
  
Markus sighs, bringing a hand up to his temple and rubbing idly at the spot where his LED used to be attached. “I’ll have to postpone the meeting with President Warren.”  
  
“No,” Connor and North say at the same time. They glance at each other and Connor gives a little nod, deferring to her.  
  
“No more waiting,” North continues. “It’s too important. Connor already said he would stay, so he’ll stay, and I will, too.”  
  
Markus frowns at her. “You should both be there.”  
  
“Look,” North says flatly. “I really hate meetings and shit, alright? I trust you to work things out, Markus, you know I do, but smiling and making nice just isn’t for me. Don’t ask me to set my feelings aside just to be palatable enough that the humans will give us the barest minimum of consideration. Connor and I will stay and take care of things, here.”  
  
Markus’ shoulders drop and his face softens into a mix of regret and understanding.  
  
“Okay,” he says, after another quiet moment. “If you’re both in agreement, Josh, Simon, and I will go to D.C., and you two will remain in charge here.”  
  
They both look to Connor and he nods his assent. He’d planned to stay no matter what, and he’s more than willing to work with North.  
  
“It’s settled, then,” Markus says.  
  
  
  
Connor starts by trying to retrace Michael’s steps. He finds out when Michael left Jericho and when he returned, as well as how many miles were logged in the truck’s system, all of it suggesting that Michael made no impromptu stops or diversions. The lone foreman at the department store warehouse - from which most of the supplies being used to build the new Jericho building were offered - is a kind, genuine man, and an obvious android supporter, which strikes him off Connor’s suspect list. Even North finds no reason to be suspicious of him after seeing Connor question him, and they return to Jericho no closer to figuring out the source of the virus that drove Veronica and Michael to the point of self-destruction.  
  
The clinic now holds fourteen androids who may have contracted the malicious code. Connor can tell that it pains Markus to leave amidst everything going on, but he has little choice.  
  
Connor calls Hank to tell him he’s staying out for the night in case something happens, and then he goes to the church while North watches over Jericho.

Nighttime in the church is calm. Some of the church’s inhabitants choose to go into stasis, and the others remain quiet so as to not disturb them, leaving the large building silent and only lit by candlelight and moonlight.

Connor spends the hours moving between the basement rooms and the main hall, checking in with everyone and staying alert, ready for anything. It’s what Markus would do if he could be here, Connor thinks.

Early the next morning, he receives a brief message from North.  
  
_WR400 #641 790 831: Got a call. Sending the address._ _  
_  
She doesn’t say if another android has been killed, but Connor can only suspect it to be the case. If it were something less urgent, less drastic, she probably would have waited until he eventually showed up to Jericho.  
  
As he leaves the building, he looks up the address North sent him, and orders himself a cab.  
  
It isn’t a location he recognises; none of the tenants in this apartment building are on Jericho’s official list of allies to stay with until the residences in Jericho are complete. This is a marked difference that Connor will need to look into.  
  
North is waiting for him on the sidewalk, arms crossed and fingers tapping restlessly on her bicep. Connor tells the autocab to wait at the curb and then joins her. As soon as he reaches her, she begins to explain.  
  
“A human called Jericho, saying she thinks her... friend has the virus. The android’s name is Heidi. At the time of the call, she hadn’t self-destructed, yet, but had become stressed like the others.”

The stern look on North’s face tells Connor that she’s reserving judgement on the human until she gets a chance to meet her in person.

“She must care about her friend, if she called us for help,” Connor says.  
  
North’s expression doesn’t change she glances over at the apartment building. “We’ll see. Let’s just get in there before it’s too late.”  
  
She takes the lead and goes in the first set of the doors, buzzing up the apartment. A few seconds pass before background noise kicks in and then a harried voice speaks to them.  
  
“ _Hi, it’s open. Please hurry, it’s getting worse and I don’t know what to do._ ”  
  
Connor and North exchange a look and then move to do as asked. They take the stairs two at a time, arriving to the third floor quicker than the elevator would have.  
  
They don’t even have to knock. The door is yanked open just as they step up to it, revealing a woman who looks fearful and shaken, her brow creased and hands trembling.  
  
“Come in, come in,” she says, gesturing them through the threshold and then shutting the door behind them.  
  
There’s no chance for introductions or questions; she turns down the hall and Connor follows right after her, sensing the urgency.  
  
The woman ushers them into a bedroom, where an android is curled up on the bed, both hands clasped over her ears even though the apartment is mostly quiet. She startles when she hears the three of them stepping closer.  
  
“Who… who’s there?” she says, voice wavering as she turns her face up towards the doorway. “In’am? What’s going on?”  
  
North sucks in a harsh breath, going rigid next to Connor. The other android shares her exact appearance, her long hair loose and cascading around her troubled, familiar face. Like North, there’s no LED glowing at her temple.  
  
LEVEL OF STRESS: 91%  
  
“I’m here,” In’am says, going to the side of the bed and sitting down. She places her hand over one of Heidi’s. “A couple people are here to help. It’s okay.”  
  
Heidi is already showing some of the extreme symptoms that Michael showed at Jericho; Connor isn’t sure how responsive she’ll be if he questions her, but he has to try.  
  
“Hello, Heidi. My name is Connor. Can you understand me?” he asks.  
  
She screws her eyes shut but nods a fraction. “Yes.”  
  
“Do you know what caused you such a significant spike of stress?” he asks.  
  
“No, no, I just...” She winces, her jaw joint tightening like she’s fighting through pain. “There’s too much, it’s hard to think.”  
  
LEVEL OF STRESS: 92%  
  
Time is limited. Connor considers what questions are the most vital, which would result in the most useful information, but the case is still so wide open, there are so many places he could start. He decides to keep it simple, as far from overwhelming as he can make it for Heidi’s sake.  
  
“Have you interfaced with another android in the past few days?”  
  
“No,” Heidi says.    
  
“Did you attend the funeral at the church?”  
  
She nods.  
  
“Have you been staying with In’am since the ceasefire?”  
  
She nods again.  
  
Connor sets some of his questions aside; Heidi and In’am seem close enough that In’am will be able to fill in some of the blanks later, under slightly less stressful conditions.  
  
“What are your thirium levels?” he asks.  
  
There’s a pause where Heidi doesn’t react in any way and a pit of nervousness grows in Connor’s core. In’am lifts her hand to run her fingers gently through Heidi’s hair, but that doesn’t cause a reaction from Heidi either.  
  
North is the one who moves, jerking slightly. She’s radiating almost as much tense energy as Heidi and In’am are, her fists clenched and brow furrowed as she watches the deterioration of the android whose face matches her own.  
  
“I don’t know,” Heidi finally answers, drawing Connor’s attention again. “I don’t know, I can’t find anything, I can’t get through, I can’t…”  
  
“That’s alright, don’t worry about it,” Connor says.  
  
LEVEL OF STRESS: 94%  
  
“Connor,” North says, voice strained.  
  
“I know,” he replies.  
  
Heidi grimaces, maybe from the sound of their voices or maybe from something only she is aware of, and curls more into herself, hiding her face from them.  
  
“Can you help her?” In’am asks. “Can you stop this?”  
  
North answers before Connor can. “She has to shut down. Heidi, you need to shut down!”  
  
“If you shut down, you’ll be safe until we can help,” Connor agrees. “You’ll be okay.”  
  
Heidi shows no evidence of having heard them, just like Michael becoming completely unresponsive at Jericho, removed from the outside world as the noise in her head overtakes her. Another android driven to the point of self-destruction and Connor still doesn’t know why.  
  
“Is she at 100%?” North asks.  
  
“Not yet,” Connor says.  
  
North strides past him, not an ounce of hesitance in her step, and raises a hand with her skin overlay already peeling back.  
  
If Connor weren’t an RK prototype, he’s certain nothing he could do would have stopped her. Because he _is_ an RK prototype, he realises what she intends to do in a fraction of a second and manages to grab her with an arm around her waist to halt her progress.  
  
She growls at him, instantly the angriest Connor has ever seen her as she jabs her elbow back at him. Connor allows her to hit him and keeps holding on.  
  
“Let me-!”  
  
“You’ll get the virus, too,” Connor says.  
  
“I don’t care, I have to-”  
  
She’s still reaching for Heidi with one hand, desperate to help, desperate to try before it’s too late and they have to deactivate Heidi by pulling a biocomponent. Connor gets it. He remembers his system informing him of a 0% chance of success, he remembers making the easy split decision to follow his brother onto the highway, despite the warning.  
  
But he doesn’t want this to happen to North.  
  
Connor spins them around and then releases her, pushing her further away from Heidi. It gives him a long enough window of time to turn back, touch his white metalloid fingers to Heidi’s forehead, and force her into shutdown.  
  
For that brief moment, he feels the cacophony in her head. There are processes running that have no purpose, there is data replicating itself endlessly, there’s static and white noise and a jumbled mess of memories coalescing over each other until it’s difficult to separate what sights and sounds and emotions are coming from which.  
  
Only three seconds pass, but by the time Connor pulls his fingers away, he feels drained of energy. He feels the need to go into stasis, he feels the need to calibrate. His hand instinctively goes to his jacket pocket for his coin and he rolls it over his fingers as he waits to see Heidi’s reaction.  
  
This time, it works. All the tension seeps out of Heidi’s body, her arms dropping onto the mattress and her pained face becoming slack, peaceful.  
  
In’am gently arranges her so her head is resting on a pillow. She doesn’t take her wide eyes off of Heidi for a moment, not even when she speaks.  
  
“Is she okay? What did you do?”  
  
“She’ll be okay while she’s like this. Once we remove the virus, she’ll hopefully reboot normally.”  
  
Behind them, Connor hears North walk out of the room, and then out of the apartment entirely, her footsteps fading from his hearing range.  
  
In’am lets out a shuddered breath and sweeps a strand of Heidi’s hair behind her ear.  
  
“I have some questions I would like to ask you,” Connor says.  
  
In’am hesitates for one more moment before she nods and tears herself away from Heidi, standing up, smoothing down her shirt, and taking a deep breath to collect herself.  
  
“Let’s go…” she murmurs, gesturing at the bedroom door.  
  
Together they step out into the hall and move to the living room, where In’am stops and turns towards Connor, waiting. 

“How did the two of you meet?” he asks.

In’am hugs her arms around herself, gaze drifting away from Connor as she speaks. “We were both at one of the demonstrations. I’m a journalist. While all the news stations were trying to catch a glimpse of Markus, I thought I might get a unique story elsewhere. My presence didn’t stop the FBI, though, not like they were held off at Recall Centre 5. When the shooting started, Heidi and I ended up escaping together. I did what I could to help, even if it wasn’t much.”

Connor nods, understanding that they must have rapidly grown close in the past week and a half.  
  
“Could you give me a timeline of what Heidi has done and who she has spoken to in the past few days?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” In’am says. “We’ve mostly been staying in, with the city the way it is right now. She went to the funeral, as she said.”  
  
“Did she go alone?”  
  
“I went with her. I didn’t stay, didn’t think I should, but I picked her up after. She never mentioned anything happening, anyone upsetting her.”  
  
It’s still difficult to say how quickly the virus impacts the system so drastically; Connor can’t confirm when it started for any of them, beyond knowing that it appeared sudden and recent to the people around them.  
  
He’ll know soon, he supposes. For now, his own system is running at the same level as usual, but he expects that to change quickly. It’s only a matter of time until he knows how long he has to solve this case, an estimate of when he’ll no longer be able to act as a detective. When he’ll have failed.  
  
Failed Jericho, like he failed Victor, like he failed Amanda.  
  
“What about after the funeral?” Connor prompts.  
  
“I don’t know. Like I said, we’ve been keeping to ourselves,” In’am says, shrugging. “Sometimes Heidi likes to take the car out at night, but not to go anywhere in particular. She just finds it relaxing.”  
  
There’s so much uncommon ground between everyone impacted by the virus, so far. They all come from different places and most of them haven’t crossed paths, except a few at Jericho who went to the clinic because they interfaced with one of the others before the news got out. There’s no common denominator, no location or person linking them all. Interfacing passes it along, but Veronica and Michael both seem to be patient zeros in their own right.  
  
And Heidi has only been in the company of one human, a human who obviously cares for her and doesn’t want to see her coming into harm. Heidi hasn’t interfaced with anyone.  
  
But she might have interfaced with _something,_ Connor realises.  
  
He quickly reviews all his data, and finds repeated information that he previously assumed to be auxiliary. Veronica ordered a cab to the church, Michael picked up supplies in a truck, Heidi likes to take drives at nighttime.  
  
“In’am, what kind of car do you have? Autonomous?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah,” she says. “Why?”  
  
“What manufacturer did you purchase it from?”  
  
“It’s an old CrowneCars model… You think using the _car_ hurt Heidi?”  
  
Connor checks the records he has on Michael’s trip to the warehouse, searching for information on the truck model, and finds that it, too, was manufactured by CrowneCars. That doesn’t explain Veronica’s cab, but a lack of oversight in Detroit Taxi leaves the vehicles vulnerable. The people in charge of CrowneCars’ operating system would have the skill set necessary to hack Detroit Taxi autocabs.  
  
Connor had interfaced with an autocab on the way to In’am’s apartment; he may have gotten the virus even before forcing Heidi into shutdown.  
  
With so many citizens outside of Detroit for the evacuation, their suspect pool should be limited. There’s still time before he  
  
_failed._  
  
_You shot your own brother,_ Amanda whispers into his ear. _Abandon these broken machines and come back to CyberLife. We’ll repair you. You and Victor can be partners, again._  
  
Amanda is gone, he knows she is. The garden is, inexplicably, empty.  
  
“Thank you,” Connor says abruptly. “That’s everything, for now.”  
  
In’am frowns at his sudden shift to curtness. “Okay…”  
  
“Heidi can stay here, we’ll keep in touch.”  
  
Connor swears he can smell roses as he turns and hurries out of the apartment. He shivers against the nonexistent cold, pulling Hank’s leather jacket tighter around himself, like it can protect him from both the phantom chill and the unsettled feeling in this processor.  
  
He finds North in the lobby, staring out through the double glass doors at the quiet street beyond.  
  
“You’re lucky I didn’t break your fucking arm for that,” she bites out at him as he walks up to her.  
  
In the reflection of the glass, her expression is stony but her eyes shine with unshed tears. Her level of stress is pitched high at 74%.  
  
“You should have let me do it.” She lifts a hand to wipe harshly over her eyes. “I could’ve done it.”  
  
“I know,” Connor says, and he does. He knows that this runs deeper than just an android with the same face as North’s. He may not know the details, may not know what this has stirred up in North, but he knows enough about feeling bonds that CyberLife never meant for androids to feel. “I don’t doubt you, I just-”  
  
“I’m just surrounded by self-sacrificing idiots.”  
  
Connor doesn’t bother arguing with her.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says.  
  
“No, you’re not.”

Tired acceptance has replaced her angry tone and her stress level has begun to drop.  
  
“No,” Connor agrees, smiling softly. “I’m not.”  
  
“Did you at least get what we needed?”  
  
Connor nods. “I got exactly what we needed. I’m fairly certain the virus is being transmitted through CrowneCars autonomous vehicles.”  
  
“Vehicles,” North murmurs thoughtfully, looking back out at the street where Connor’s autocab is still parked, a scowl growing on her face. “Okay. How do we catch the fucker who put the virus in the system?”  
  
“It’s probably disguised as a software patch or upgrade, to avoid suspicion,” Connor says as he pushes the door open to head for the cab. “If we’re lucky, very few of the company’s programmers will still be in Detroit.”  
  
North follows him outside, splitting off to circle around the back of the cab. Once they’re both seated, Connor touches the console to put in the address for the CrowneCars dealership.  
  
CONFIRM DESTINATION: 1554 PARK AV.  
  
No, Connor thinks, that’s not right. The car starts and pulls away from the curb. Connor touches the console again. He doesn’t know how he messed up the destination like that; the last time he input that address was three months ago. His and Victor’s first mission.  
  
CONFIRM DESTINATION: 1554 PARK AV.  
  
That’s _not…_  
  
He can’t go back there.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
Connor looks up to see North furrowing her eyebrows at him. “I don’t know, I didn’t mean to,” he says.  
  
“Didn’t mean to what?”  
  
He turns back to the console, preparing to try again, but then he sees the GPS on the display. It’s set for the car dealership, not Park Av. He thought…  
  
“The virus?” North asks.  
  
Connor curls his fingers into a fist and drops it down onto his lap. If this is what the others felt, more and more intense as time went on and the virus developed, he can easily see how they got to the highest possible stress level. He knows why these things are happening but that doesn’t make it any easier to tamp down the unnerved feeling it causes in him.  
  
He queues a list of diagnostic tests to run in the background, in case his system can locate and quarantine the virus on its own, though he doesn’t expect positive results. His software has already changed so much since his activation that his diagnostic functions could easily become confused.  
  
“I’m fine,” he tells North.  
  
She just shrugs, obviously not convinced by his platitude but not calling him out on it, either.  
  
Closing his eyes, Connor tries to calm his processor, like he’d done back when he first deviated and had to stay under the radar, to keep hidden until the time was right. His stress is more than manageable for the time being, but he needs to keep things straight until the job is done. They’re close.  
  
He still doesn’t know what he’s going to do once the case is solved. Markus has barely been in D.C. for twelve hours, and there has been no news on how the discussions are going, yet. Connor won’t even be able to arrest the code’s author on alternate offenses, he isn’t a detective anymore. If he wants this to end in an arrest, he’ll need to call Hank in.  
  
This line of thought does nothing to keep his stress levels low. Connor focuses on the gentle movement of the cab as it makes its way to the dealership, letting it drown out everything else.  
  
They arrive at CrowneCars, the cab coming to a stop directly in front of the building. The whole street is quiet and empty, no vehicles coming and going except their own. Most of the stores are closed up and dark, CrowneCars being no exception. The large windows show the whole expanse of the vehicle showroom, no lights on or employees to be seen inside it.  
  
Connor had hoped there would be someone around to question, had hoped that resolving the case would be quick and simple from this point forward. There must not be much work for a vehicle programmer in an evacuated city, when they’re not preoccupied targeting androids with malicious code.  
  
“Let’s go,” North says, and steps out of the cab.  
  
When they get up to the building, she bangs her fist on the door a few times, but the noise doesn’t bring anyone out from the back. The place remains dark and still.  
  
North leans in close to the glass, eyes roving across the interior showroom. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way. See any cameras?”  
  
Her intention is obvious and what she’s suggesting is illegal. It’s breaking and entering.  
  
Connor knows he hasn’t always been lawful. Androids aren’t supposed to use firearms but CyberLife had programmed both him and Victor to use them. Technically, deviating had been unlawful at the time. He’d shot people during the raid, and at CyberLife Tower. He has no qualms about any of that, but this doesn’t feel comparable.    
  
“I’m not sure this is the best course of action,” he says. If he were a detective, this would hold repercussions. He isn’t a detective, but he would like to be, in the days to come.  
  
North rolls her eyes. “Yeah? Well, humans haven’t decided that we get to be law-abiding citizens, yet, so ‘legal’ is subjective.”  
  
It isn’t the first time North has done something like this. Connor read the report. She and Markus did what they had to do to keep the revolution moving forward.  
  
“Why are we even here, if not to take matters into our own hands?” she continues. “Someone is trying to _kill_ us and nothing is stopping them!”  
  
She’s right. Things will be different, soon - Markus is working on it and Connor knows nothing will stop him from succeeding - but for now, Connor needs to do what he can to protect their people. Protecting Jericho is what’s important to him. He wants Veronica’s friends to have closure, he wants Michael, Heidi, and the others to wake up safely. He wants to go home and see Hank and Sumo, wants to stay in their lives as long as possible.  
  
“Okay,” he says, and then scans the vehicle showroom for cameras.  
  
There’s one behind the front desk, hidden in the frame of a painting on the wall. As he remotes into the feed, a tiny red light blinks out in response.  
  
Zachary’s LED strobes red and frantic in the dark attic, rose petals wilt on the stems that still cling to Amanda’s trellis.  
  
#FF0000 REMOVED.  
  
#FE0000 REMOVED.  
  
#FD0000 REMOVED.  
  
#FC0000 REMOVED.  
  
#FB0000 REMOVED.  
  
#FA0000 REMOVED.  
  
16,777,210 HEX CODES REMAINING.  
  
Connor shakes his head as if that could stop the processes from running unbidden. _Terminate_ , he sends to both the hex code elimination and the camera footage. The red light goes out, and Connor relaxes.  
  
“You okay?” North asks.  
  
“Of course,” Connor says faintly.  
  
He presses his palm to the electronic lock on the dealership’s front door, hand white and grey. It takes a moment for him to launch the right hack process, system still off kilter, but he persists until the lock releases.  
  
Connor takes his hand away and North pulls the door open, leading the way inside the quiet dealership. They bypass the showroom displays, going straight for the offices in the back.  
  
“Don’t interface with anything,” Connor says. “The virus could have been written on any of the computers.”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
They start by clearing the rest of the building, still finding no sign of anyone, which leaves them free to turn on a computer and poke around. Connor doesn’t hesitate to access the company’s information network. They’ve already hacked a camera and broken into the building; he doesn’t see a point in holding back, anymore.  
  
It doesn’t take him long to find something. The most recent activity - the only logged activity since November 10th - is a software update, uploaded by ID#7159Hext, Landon.  
  
Connor opens it.  
  
LOADING MEMORY 9172038.0723  
  
Lieutenant Anderson is more lucid than usual, for this early in the morning. When he opens the door to let Connor in, he’s already showered and dressed for the day.  
  
“‘Morning,” he greets as Connor steps into the house.  
  
“Good morning, Lieutenant. You’re looking well, today.”  
  
The Lieutenant huffs an almost laugh. “Thought we were past the point of brown nosing.”  
  
“I mean it,” Connor insists as he follows Lieutenant Anderson into the kitchen where the coffee machine has finished brewing a coffee. “Your sleep must have been extra restful.”  
  
“I guess,” the Lieutenant mutters, picking up the mug with the little puppies on it and taking a sip.  
  
Connor glances around the house, quickly noticing the lack of leftover alcohol bottles on the coffee table or the kitchen counter. There’s almost always at least something still out from the night before; the Lieutenant certainly doesn’t care if Connor sees his house while it’s messy.  
  
No evidence of alcohol having been recently consumed. More colour under the Lieutenant’s eyes. A less prominent crease to the Lieutenant’s brow. Conclusion: Lieutenant Anderson fell asleep the night before without having something alcoholic to drink.  
  
He really does look better for it. Connor is glad.  
  
>Delete memory file 9172038.0723?  
  
_No_ , Connor commands frantically.  
  
>Deletion progress... 7%  
>Cancel deletion  
>Deletion progress... 34%  
>Cancel deletion  
>Deletion progress… 68%  
>Cancel deletion  
>y8AlwQL30emXs1… j53H  
>Cancel  
>l2Wldf9gmEd5wpr7rkUcgJ3  
  
The office around him comes back into focus with a jolt and Connor finds North standing next to him, fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist, which she has pulled away from the computer. The screen casts faint blue light over her face, illuminating her bright eyes, which look concerned. Connor doesn’t recall ever seeing North concerned, before.  
  
“It’s getting worse,” she says as she gently lets go of his wrist.  
  
It isn’t a question, but Connor still nods.  
  
“Well, you found it. Even if we didn’t catch who wrote it, we can get it out of everyone’s system.”  
  
Connor looks back down at the computer and finds a folder of software update information with one of the files open. He reaches out to scroll through it, his time keeping his skin overlay active as he scans the script and then opens a couple of the other files, this time without any trouble.  
  
He starts a new diagnostic with narrowed parameters, sending his system after the specific code. He may still need to shut down if it takes too long, but it’s a comfort to have something concrete, to know he hasn’t failed.  
  
“I have the employee identification. We’ll find him,” he says.  
  
He can send everything he has to Hank. Landon Hext misused company assets, could have caused unintentional malfunctions to company manufactured vehicles in an effort to target androids, and hacked Detroit Taxi cabs. There may be no laws against killing androids, yet, but this is still plenty to start with. It will keep them busy until Markus sorts out the rest.  
  
“Good,” North says, a faint smile on her lips. “For now, let’s get back to Jericho. You’re going to be fine, Connor, and so is everyone else.”  
  
There’s still noise in the back of his processor - static, Robin called it - but her words settle him, some.  
  
With a resolved nod, Connor manually turns the computer off and the two of them head out of the office, back to the front of the building.  
  
They don’t talk during the drive to Jericho. Connor closes his eyes again, giving his processor less information to sort through while he creates a report of all the information he has gathered in the last three days, putting it into a comprehensive package that can be sent to the DPD. It’s unorthodox and lacking in protocol, but he knows Hank - and probably Captain Fowler, as well - will put value on it despite that.  
  
He hesitates at sending an extra message to Hank with an explanation of what happened, but Hank would want to know, he thinks. Hank would rather find out now, properly, than have it sprung on him later. Connor can reassure him that everything will be fine.  
  
It takes him almost as long to get the words right as it took to put together his report, but it’s a relief when he finally sends the message.  
  
By the time he’s finished, he and North have arrived at Jericho. They go up to the clinic and find Dr. Szántó.  
  
As Connor is transferring the script to them, North says, “Connor has the virus, too.”  
  
Dr. Szántó nods in acknowledgement. “That’s okay, we can work with this. Good job, you two. Connor, find somewhere to hang out, and shut down if you need to, alright?”  
  
“Okay,” Connor says.  
  
His diagnostic is still running and it hasn’t honed in on anything, yet, but he isn’t worried. He takes a deep breath and looks around the large room for a free spot, choosing to just sit down in a nearby chair. North comes with him.  
  
“You should call In’am to give her the good news and suggest she bring Heidi here,” Connor says as he settles in.

North crosses her arms, eyes trained at the floor in front of them. “Yeah.”

“It would be a good opportunity to get to know them better. Both of them, once Heidi is okay.”

“Heidi barely even knew I was there at the apartment. She doesn’t need me getting in her face.”

“North,” Connor says, making her look up at him.

He understands her hesitance. He knows that she still isn’t comfortable with humans, considering Carl Manfred and Kay Szántó are the only good examples she has compared to all the horrific ones she must have encountered before escaping to Jericho. He recognises that Heidi’s wellbeing is personal for her, and getting close to her will mean opening herself up to being vulnerable, to being hurt.

“It’s worth it to take the chance,” he says. “Don’t waste it.”

North regards him thoughtfully for a moment. “I won’t,” she says.  
  
Connor smiles softly up at her, an odd blend of happiness for her and sadness for himself suddenly coiling inside of him. He knows that protectiveness, that determination. Swallowing around the sudden imagined thickness in his throat, Connor looks back down at the ground.  
  
What should he have done differently? Had there really been no other options?  
  
Maybe Victor is gone for good, decommissioned because Connor couldn’t think of a way to save him. Or maybe he’s out there, somewhere, and isn’t showing himself because he doesn’t trust Connor, anymore.  
  
_You betrayed me, you failed Victor,_ Amanda’s voice whispers to him. _What would have happened to Hank, if you’d never made it out of CyberLife Tower alive? Will you hurt North, next? Or Markus?_  
  
LEVEL OF STRESS: 83%  
  
North perches on the arm of his chair like she has no intention of leaving anytime soon. She doesn’t say anything, she just stays next to him, close and supportive. Connor tries to focus on her presence next to him instead of the prickly feeling of anxiety spreading through his chassis.  
  
They stay that way until Connor feels vaguely better, but his stress remains high, the virus still working its way through him.  
  
“Why don’t you shut down?” North says. “You’ve done your part.”  
  
He has done everything he can, what he set out to do, despite the circumstances. He and the others are in good hands. Connor supposes North is right, and he’s sure Hank would say the same thing if he were here already. “Okay,” he says, and starts ordering his processes to power down.  
  
The noise starts to lessen, his processor finally going blissfully quiet.  
  
“When Hank gets here, he’s going to ask questions,” Connor says quietly, feeling like he’s on the verge of falling asleep and it’s a struggle to get the words out. “I told him I would be fine, but… well, he’ll want a second opinion.”  
  
“And you want _me_ to give it to him?” North asks incredulously.  
  
Connor isn’t asking her to play nice with Hank, would never ask her to do that. He actually thinks they’re more likely to get along if she doesn’t. “Just be yourself,” he says. “Hank likes that.”  
  
She scoffs, but if she has anything to say, Connor misses it. His system completes its shutdown, and he sleeps.  
  
  
  
A lot happens while he’s unaware. The Detroit Police Department takes Landon Hext into custody. The virus is removed from eight androids, including Heidi and Connor. For the rest, and any other androids who need it, a system of support for PTSD is implemented.  
  
The New Equal Rights for Androids Act is put in motion. CyberLife is ordered to release all completed androids from their premises.  
  
Both he and Markus completed their missions. The news does just as much to ease Connor’s system as the removal of the virus does.  
  
Hank, who’d shown up while Connor was out, fills him in on it all. North is gone, but a quick scan of the room reveals her nearby, sitting and talking with both Heidi and In’am. Heidi is looking at her with a brilliant smile on her face. North’s posture is a little stiffer and more awkward than Connor has ever seen from her, but she appears otherwise okay. Happy, even.  
  
“You’ll be able to come back to the DPD, soon,” Hank says. “The Act includes employment. That something you want?”  
  
The easy answer is ‘yes’. Yes, he does want to work for the DPD, with Hank. Yes, he wants to be a detective. That’s what he was created for.  
  
It’s more than that, though. He was created to hunt deviant androids, but he’s in control of his own purpose, now, and what he wants is to protect androids instead. This time, when he works for the DPD, he wants to be catching people like Landon Hext. Like Carlos Ortiz. Like every other person in the same vein as them.  
  
“Yes, I want that,” Connor says, and Hank smiles, clapping a hand on Connor’s shoulder.  
  
It isn’t all Connor wants. CyberLife took action to eradicate deviants, and they wanted Connor and Victor to be their executioners. All of this happened before the Act, but there’s a case to be made against CyberLife, Connor is sure of it. He’s ready to go on the hunt again, not for deviants, but for the company that created androids and then tried to destroy them once they could no longer control them. He wants CyberLife to answer for all of it, and more than anything, he wants information.  
  
He needs to know what happened to Victor. He wants to know who killed all those guards. There must be some record, some explanation, but he can’t just walk into the building like he did before, without a plan or any idea of where to start. Even if he has to do it the hard way, he’s going to find his answers.  
  
He glances across the room again, eyes landing on North. He doesn’t want to disturb her, nor does he want to leave Hank’s side, so he sends her a message.  
  
_RK800 #313 248 317 - 52: I’m going after CyberLife._ _  
_  
North looks up, locking eyes with his, and nods.  
  
_WR400 #641 790 831: I’m in._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3
> 
> the New ERA act is a reference to [Fantismal's awesome New ERA series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1072740)!


End file.
